Sir President, Your Stamina is Amazing! - Chapter 1308 - : God Helping

Demon pets, demon soldiers, and demon warriors.

In this bizarre world where everything can be a partner, Du Yu looked at Qian Zhihe with wings flapping in his palm, and couldn’t help falling into deep thought.

Did she just say…she is from the Golden Crow?

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Easy and funny, welcome to the pit.

The works “Nine Stars Poisonous Milk” and “The Lord of Nine Stars” have been completed, and you are welcome to read them.

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- Description from novelbuddy

I spent my life playing a game.
I hit the wall, stuck in second place for the rest of my life.

Out of the blue, I received a message and was possessed by the game.
As the worthless son of an Underworld Boss!

“Yes, bloodline is also a power, as long as you can use it. My ability is ‘Famiglia’.”

The game addict never disappears. Overwhelming violence, endless wealth, connections in the other world. I, I’ll use anything to stay alive!

The new book will be released at 8 o’clock tonight, I hope you can support me, thank you! ! !

The plane crashed, Ye Jinzhi crossed back with his golden finger,

Looking at the mess left by the original owner, and the three sons who are waiting to be fed, Ye Jinzhi feels that the whole person is not good in an instant.

- Description from novelbuddy

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”